


soften every edge

by amateurwordbender



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mighty Nein as Family, post c2e129, yes it’s all of those we’re putting all the bittersweet feelings in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amateurwordbender/pseuds/amateurwordbender
Summary: Luc doesn’t remember a lot about his early childhood.He knows it wasn’t exactly the mostnormalof upbringings. He knows that most kids didn’t grow up with crossbow practice, magic books, and a dog that could blink in and out of existence. He knows he moved around a lot. He knows that Mom is a hero, and that she couldn’t be at home for a while.He knows that at one point, he died.(years after the events of 2x129, Luc reflects on death, life, and the people who make it all worthwhile)
Relationships: Luc Brenatto & Beauregard Lionett, Luc Brenatto & Caduceus Clay, Luc Brenatto & Caleb Widogast, Luc Brenatto & Jester Lavorre, Luc Brenatto & The Mighty Nein, Luc Brenatto & Yeza Brenatto & Nott | Veth Brenatto
Comments: 34
Kudos: 164





	soften every edge

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "Light" by Sleeping At Last

Luc doesn’t remember a lot about his early childhood.

He knows it wasn’t exactly the most _normal_ of upbringings. He knows that most kids didn’t grow up with crossbow practice, magic books, and a dog that could blink in and out of existence. He knows he moved around a lot. He knows that Mom is a hero, and that she couldn’t be at home for a while.

He knows that at one point, he died.

Sometimes he’ll get flashes that he’ll try to make sense of. Frantic shouts in the air and splinters of wood at his feet as he runs alone to Old Edith’s. The twittering of a hummingbird on one shoulder and the steady hand of a man with a shock of white hair on the other. People rushing around him to a looming tower in the distance. A heat so intense it fills his lungs and makes his eyes water, a blaze of light, an explosion that turns everything to static and pain. Darkness.

Hands on his chest, gentle, but with a power that sends warmth pulsing from his heart to the tips of his fingers. Uncle Ducey, even paler than usual, his tired smile the first thing Luc sees when his eyes flutter open.

(They’ve always had a connection. It took a while for him to wrap his head around it, but he recognizes now that it was Uncle Ducey who brought him back to the land of the living. And at times it feels like Luc is only truly tethered here when he reaches up to tuck his hand into Uncle Ducey’s, when the two of them sit side by side in a garden, planting seeds in a peaceful silence interspersed by the occasional toot.)

Mom and Dad, hugging him between them, a tangle of arms and legs as they hold him close. Fabric damp from tears, a thick smell of smoke, but the familiar scent of Dad’s chemicals and Mom’s black powder as well.

(People might find it strange that such things are comforting to him, but they’re his reminders that Mom and Dad will always be his protectors. Not that they’d let him forget it anyway—they’ve always been a little overbearing. He gets it, and he can’t blame them for it when they want to keep an eye on him everywhere he goes or set up traps on all the windows of their home. At least Beau—not _Auntie_ Beau, she always insists, and Luc agrees; Beau’s as much his aunt as anyone, but she’s also TJ’s _sister_ and the label would be so weird—she teaches him how to sneak around the traps and makes him a master at coming up with excuses to get away when he needs it.)

Uncle Caleb’s face appears a lot too, screwed up in a haunted expression Luc doesn’t understand as Frumpkin is sent over to nuzzle in his arms.

(He understands a little, now. Regret, sadness, a weight of guilt that hunches thin shoulders and darkens blue eyes. He still sees it, sometimes, when he asks too many questions about Uncle Caleb’s adventures, about his scars, about how he picked up all the cool spells he’s teaching Luc now. Uncle Caleb always answers with a smile, as patient and warm as his bedtime stories and lessons in magic. But Luc’s learned that some things are difficult to talk about, and he’s learned to be careful not to push too much.)

There’s also Auntie Jester’s voice in his ear, always loud and lively, but occasionally with a wobble that makes him want to go back in time and give her a hug.

(It’s weird to think about Auntie Jester sounding scared. She’s the _most_ badass blue lady in all of Exandria, and whenever she visits, they skip along the beaches of Nicodranas together and play pranks on grumpy shopkeepers. She’s always got a spring in her step and a pastry in hand, and she talks about things like pirates and sea serpents without missing a beat. Luc doesn’t know what could make her afraid. He doesn’t like thinking about it.)

He doesn’t think Uncle Fjord, Auntie Yasha, or Beau were there that night. But he can picture them surrounding him afterwards, a wall between him and any danger that would dare try to take him again.

(And of course, they’ve etched themselves into his history as much as the others since then. Uncle Fjord taught him how to swim, and the two of them have taken countless dives along miles of sparkling coral. Auntie Yasha is lessons in swordfighting and piggyback rides through the sky, and also lazy afternoons in the sun with notes from a harp drifting in the background. Beau’s the one Luc can tell anything without fear of being tattled on, the one who teaches him to use his fists, but only in defense of himself and his friends. Luc just hopes they don’t feel like they have to make up for that one moment they were gone.)

Sometimes it’s all a bit too much. Sometimes he’ll wake up clammy, his pajamas drenched in a cold sweat, with noises crawling into his ears and crowding in his head, and he has to reach for his copper wire and call for Mom or Dad to stay with him until he falls asleep again. He’s probably too old for that now.

They never ever judge him for it, though, or tell him he needs to grow up and face the nightmares alone. Uncle Ducey says it’s okay, too, that Luc’s worries of being annoying or a baby are just lies from his brain that he can recognize and shut down. There’s no shame in getting support from the people who love you. In fact, it’s one of the most precious gifts that nature can offer.

So he doesn’t remember a lot. But he knows he has the coolest parents in the world, even if they can be overprotective. And he knows he has six aunts and uncles who would do absolutely anything for him. It’s something he’s never going to take for granted.

(He’d be lying if he said he never takes _advantage_ of it, though. But hey, he’s totally just using the resources the Wildmother gave him when he asks eight different adults for something until he gets an answer he wants. It would be wasteful not to.)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started writing this before 2x129 and didn't have any plans to finish it right away but then uhh everything happened, I reworked this to fit the events of the episode, and stayed up all night to complete it oops


End file.
